DEAD PEOPLE DON'T PLAY GOLF

After you're gone, Dear Golfer, who'll ever walk down the fairway the way you do? Duck-hook a drive into the woods the way you do? Listen at dusk to the mourning doves the way you do? Drive a golf cart the way you do? Pull the flagstick from the cup the way you do? Throw a golf bag in the back of a pickup truck the way you do? Line up a putt the way you do? Who will ever (except Jacques perhaps) shank a ball the way you do? (Geez Louise, you ought to see my friend Jacques shank a ball!)

The answer is simple: nobody! Sure, others may try to imitate you. But no one can impersonate you. When you're gone, the way you do things will disappear. In this life you're granted a finite number of breaths, days, divots, and rounds of golf. Despite your illusions, life doesn't go on forever. Until you realize that, you're missing the whole point. You don't need a whole new golf life. You just need to cherish the golf life you already have.

Death isn't some enemy waiting to destroy you. Rather, death is a friend reminding you to drop your pretensions and pay attention. Death will whisper to you about your unfinished business. Whether you listen to what death is telling you — that's up to you. I don't know much, but I know this: That if I don't cherish the moments I have left, someday I'm going to regret it. Before death hunts me down, I'm going to bow more reverently to golf — even if I don't know what I'm bowing to.

Death may seem like an odd subject for a book on golf. But when the idea of cherishing life's precious moments arises, death is the only place to start. Why? Because death compels you to decide what really matters in your life. To understand the preciousness of life, just contemplate death. It's like an approaching flood or hurricane threatening to demolish your house. Before you flee the area, you must decide what to take with you. "All human beings," wrote James Thurber, "should try to learn before they die what they are running from, and to, and why."

Trophies and a big golf reputation certainly matter — but what matters far more is this: to find joy in a game you love with all your heart. When my heart's aglow and I'm enjoying a round of golf with some dear friends on a beautiful day, I've been known to proclaim, "If I could drop dead right now on this beautiful golf course, I'd be the happiest man alive!"

Learn to cherish golf 's small miracles. The fairway bathed in green glory ... the dew glistening on the fairway ... the autumn trees clad in gleaming copper ... the wind swirling the autumn leaves in the rough ... the aroma of freshly mowed grass, the soft velvet of the green underfoot ... the wispy pink clouds connecting afternoon to evening ... the stroll toward your ball ... the American flag standing tall by the deserted clubhouse at dusk.

The things you most cherish and think about make you the person you are. The things you place in the palace of your heart determine who you are. When you internalize golf 's small miracles, you become the miracle. When you feel fully alive, fully awake, fully blessed — that's how you know you're standing in the right place. If you live joyfully, your life will never be a failure.

If you really want to come alive on the golf course, try this: imagine yourself lying dead in your fancy coffin. Picture a coffin large enough to accommodate you, your clubs, and that large Ping tour bag that Harold (your worthless, unemployed, ex-brother-in-law) sold you. Next, imagine yourself wearing your navy Cutter & Buck shirt, your Izod tan shorts, and your orange Niagara Falls CC golf hat. Imagine your lucky St. Andrews ball marker and divot tool in your pocket.

Imagine yourself, decked out as above, with your feet set in an open stance and your right shoulder positioned slightly lower than your left. Finally, picture your hands (in a Vardon grip) reverently folded across your chest. When you imagine yourself in your coffin, you'll get a whole new perspective. Suddenly, your golf problems won't seem that bad. (In fact, none of your problems will seem that bad.) This meditation exercise is a valuable reality check when things don't roll your way. Which is most of the time.

Consider each golf day a special gift. Slip each golf day — regardless of your score — into the archives where you store your most precious memories. When your golf moments are spent, they are lost forever. Eternity never gives them back. Before it's too late, acknowledge time's relentless melt. Don't wait until your final round to start loving golf. Don't wait until your last heartbeat to start loving life. Don't waste your last breath telling the EMT at your doorstep, "If anything should happen to me, please make sure George gets my new set of Mizuno irons."

Leo Tolstoy, the Russian novelist, said that the reality of death compels us to change our life in such a way as to give it a meaning that not even death can remove. From this instant forward, this is what's left of your life. So tell me, Dear Golfer, what do you plan to do with what remains of your precious golf life?

AWARENESS

Imagine yourself in a large conference room, along with one hundred other golfers taking a survey. The coordinator asks you to list the ten most vexing problems associated with your game. (You and other disgruntled golfers want to list more than ten, but the coordinator insists on the limit. You sense some hostility over this matter.)

Then the coordinator asks you to turn over the paper and list the ten most vexing problems associated with your health. After collecting the...